


Raindrops on Roses

by transpeterp



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Gen, Irondad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Soft Peter Parker, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, i love them what else is new, just dad and son, spiderson, tony is a protective and amazing father that is facts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-08
Updated: 2019-03-08
Packaged: 2019-11-13 18:26:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18036560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transpeterp/pseuds/transpeterp
Summary: "tell me about her."





	Raindrops on Roses

Tony found Peter at noon. The sun, which was high in the sky at that point, shone brightly down on New York and was causing everyone in the city to groan with anger. Sweat stuck to everyone’s backs, weathermen debated just how hot it was getting, how hot it would get. 

Tony found Peter after May called him at ten. He had missed her initial call, but when she called a second time, he waved an apology to Pepper and the rest of the people in said meeting and ducked into the hall to answer. She said that Peter wasn’t home when she woke up and was wondering if he was at the compound. Tony explained that he wasn’t at the compound, but maybe he caught the bus there. He raced back there, finding no Spider-kid there. 

Tony found Peter after tracking down the boy’s suit, which of course he kept on him. A random graveyard in Queens. 

Random. 

As Tony got out of his nicely air conditioned car into the disgusting heat, he looked across the somewhat rundown graveyard, spotting the boy, his boy, sitting close to the middle, cross legged on the somewhat dead grass. 

Tony approached him carefully, footsteps crunching the dead grass like leaves in the fall. The smell of the city reeked, and the graveyard seemed to be an attempt at a haven from the city, though how well it was doing Tony couldn’t say. 

“Peter?” He asked, voice quiet, yet echoing, across the graves of dead, recent and otherwise. Peter’s head tilted up, just barely, and was still staring at the ground in front of him. He wasn’t just sitting—he was sitting in front of a certain grave. Who’s, Tony couldn’t tell from his distance. 

He continued on, passing stone after stone. Some names stuck with him a second longer than others, and Tony wondered if in another life he knew them. Death scared him enough, and a graveyard and existential thoughts did not help. At all. 

“Pete?” Tony was finally close enough he was sure Peter heard him, though he suspected he heard the first time. Peter didn’t move this time, but instead just sighed a bit. Tony could make out the name on the headstone now, and it caused him to pause, feeling completely unworthy to be in the spot he was in. Next to Peter, right next to the headstone, was a old-looking vase, with new red roses. Tony assumed Peter had put them there just today, otherwise they wouldn’t’ve survived in this weather. 

“You know they didn’t die at the same time?” 

Peter was wearing a black sweatshirt and jeans. That had to be hot. Terribly hot. Tony was already sweating, and he had been out of his car for about a minute. Who knows how long Peter had been sitting there, burning by the sun and dead grass alike. 

Sitting atop his mother’s grave with a slump, an uncertainty. 

“My dad died in a plane crash when I was three. Ben, May, my mom, they all said he was amazing. I never knew him. May used to show me videos of toddler me and him. I would get so upset. My mom was always so strong, though. Think May levels of strongness, but on crack.” 

Tony chuckled softly, watching the boy he liked to refer to as his own crumble a bit. Shoulder’s fell just a touch more, hood shifted barely lower. 

“She was diagnosed when I was eight. It was pretty fast, she was diagnosed too late. I was there, when she…” 

Peter took a breath, and Tony wanted to comfort, wanted to place a hand, tell him it was okay, it would be okay. But he couldn’t bring himself into what felt like Peter’s area. 

“I suppose it’s better than not. She told me she loved me and that I would do great things. I held her hand. I wouldn’t let go.” 

Tony wished the sun, the birds, the loud traffic, and the loud people would all just disappear for a moment, allowing Peter to have this solitude. Allowing Peter to be able to have quiet time with his mom. 

“Kid, I…” Tony didn’t really know what to say. All these years, scoffing at people who were at a loss for words when his mom came up in conversation, and here he was, in the exact same spot. 

“You know I didn’t go to the funeral? I didn’t go to the fucking funeral because I wouldn’t get out of bed. I screamed at Ben, and then May, and they went by themselves. I…” 

Peter’s elbows hit his knees, and he buried his face into his hands. Tony took another step forward, now standing next to him, staring down at his mother’s grave. 

“Tony, I didn’t even go to the funeral.” 

He was shaking, sobs and sobs finally erupting out of him. Tony knew that feeling, what he was going through. He knew that the kid had built this up, built it up to where he couldn’t hold it anymore. Tony had been there. Peter threw himself into projects in the lab or patroling as Spidey like Tony did with alcohol when his own mom…

“On my ninth birthday was when I finally came down to visit her,” Peter was choking the words through tears, forcing through sobs, and waves of sadness, and what could be months of pent up breakdowns. “It was three months later. Three months. Ben held my hand, said he was there for me, but I… I felt nothing. Literally nothing. I was… I was looking at her name, on the grave, sat right here, and I just… felt nothing.” 

Tony bit his lip, and kneeled down (screw his suit), sitting next to Peter on the sun-fried grass. He didn’t want to touch him, afraid he might have a panic attack, but he also wanted to give him a hug, hold Peter until he finished crying. 

“People at school came up and apologized, were really nice to me, all of that. It was complete bullshit. A month before, I was being bullied on the playground, then the bullies were coming up and giving me hugs, patting my back. Saying that I could get through it. That’s why I transferred schools going into fourth grade, besides the fact I had tested into Midtown’s elementary program.” 

“Because it became too much?” Tony prompted, and Peter, face still hidden, shook his head. 

“No, because I punched someone for telling me that they were sorry for my loss,” Peter choked out through tears, and Tony had to bite back a smile. He shifted towards the boy, and let his hand fall between the boys hunched over shoulder blades. For a millisecond, he clenched up, as if shocked by the touch, then leaned back just slightly into it. Tony rubbed the sweatshirt (which was scorching hot, damn it), sighing a bit. 

“Let it out,” He whispered, and Peter continued to sob and sob and sob. Eventually, he shifted over, head nestled in Tony’s shoulder, and the sobs shook Tony’s body with it. Even though it was way too fucking hot to be this close to anyone, especially someone wearing an all black outfit, Tony just let it happen, rubbing his back and making shushing sounds as if it was helping in any way. He hoped Peter couldn’t feel the sweat rolling off his body, and just kept shushing him softly. 

After a few minutes of the violent shakes, Peter’s sobbing dispersed to a softer, more controlled crying. He was catching his breath, and Tony was still rubbing his back. 

“Tell me about her,” Tony found himself whispering when they were both quiet for a few seconds. Peter sat up a little, looking at Tony through red rimmed eyes, tears still loose and pooled in them. “C’mon. Tell me her favorite color, food, cuss word. Everything you can remember.” 

“Oh...okay.” Peter sat up more, but Tony pulled him back, keeping him locked next to his body in a half-snuggle. “Uh, well, her favorite color was blue.” 

“Dark or light?” 

“Sky blue. After she passed, Ben would point to it and say that was her looking over me. I didn’t believe him, but…” Peter glanced up a bit, glaring into the sun. “It’s still nice to remember.” 

Tony looked up too, remembering suddenly that sky blue was his own mom’s favorite color. He didn’t voice this to Peter, and instead motioned for him to continue. This was something Rhodey did for him when he would cry about her. He would ask questions about her, even ones he already asked or knew the answer to, just to put good memories, happy thoughts, in his head. It worked for Tony, hopefully it worked for Peter. 

“Uh, favorite food… I dunno if it was her favorite, but she made chicken parmesan a lot. Like, more than normal. Sometimes for us, but usually she made huge batches of it and took it to the homeless shelter near us. She volunteered there a lot.” 

“Sounds good. You could ask May for the recipe sometime, I’m sure you could find it somewhere.” 

“Heh, yeah,” Peter sighed, finally relaxing into Tony’s hug. “Her favorite cuss word? Probably bitch. She called everyone bitch. Even me. When I was in first grade, actually, I said it to a guy in my class and got in major trouble for it, and they called my mom and she laughed. They made me tell the kid I was sorry. He thought it was funny too, and we stayed friends.” 

“Lemme guess, Ned?” Tony asked, and Peter nodded, soft, watery chuckle shaking the boy a small bit. “Alright, favorite animal?”

They stayed there for an hour, when Peter’s tears were dry and he was sweating profusely from the sweatshirt, and Tony was ninety percent sure he had a sunburn on his face and his suit was officially soaked from the sweat. Peter peeled himself off Tony, and Tony stood back, watching Peter make sure the flowers were arranged well. The red was vibrant in the sea of stone grey and yellow grass, and Tony smiled to himself. After what he heard, that seemed to encompass Peter’s mom perfectly—a color in the waves of beige. 

Once they were in Tony’s car, blasting the air con, Peter looked over to him. His eyes were red still, and he had a small smile on his face. 

“Thanks,” He said, and Tony clapped his shoulder. 

“Don’t sweat it. Hearing about your mom was the best way to spend my afternoon,” Tony grinned. Then, “Call your aunt, though. She has been blowing up my phone for the past hour.”

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/transpeterp


End file.
